


Keep Your Enemies Closer

by Yamazing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Slow Build, The whole "petting" thing might seem sexual but I swear it's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamazing/pseuds/Yamazing
Summary: "Can I pet you?" says Potter.No. Of course not. Never. Don't even try... or do.





	1. Unconvinced

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for some awkward conversations, some sarcastic Draco (oh how I love him), and above all, some high-speed car chasing, but instead of using cars, with wizards! Exciting, isn’t it? I’m excited, you might be excited. Exciting, indeed.

As sometimes happens- unfortunately- Potter and I are walking through the same hallway at the same time. On this particular occasion, we happen to be the only ones doing so, but that doesn't make me worried automatically. Compared to some people, Potter's simply avoidance of me is positively tame. However, when Potter looks around nervously, evidently searching for people, I'm smart enough to get suspicious, and, only at that point, more than a little bit worried. It's obvious that he's planning something, I just don't know what.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

He stops looking, satisfied that we're alone, and turns to me, opening his mouth. I tense up automatically, and start to walk faster.

"Can I pet you?"

I come to a halt as the question registers, and slowly turn back around to face Potter. He looks almost as confused as I feel, and he's the one who asked the question. A couple of seconds pass in awkward silence.

"What?" I have to ask, once the confusion goes from painful to positively unbearable.

"Ah, I'm sorry! What I meant is… Well, I was wondering if I could pet you?"

I find myself worrying for Potter's intelligence. Again a couple of seconds pass as we look at each other like we're both deer while simultaneously being headlights.

"You said that before." Does he not realize this? I feel an obligation to tell him. "My question stands. What?"

I'm almost impressed when Potter blushes more than he already is, which _was_ quite a bit, and is now somehow even more.

"Oh. You're right. I imagine now is probably the time to… explain?"

I look at him like this is obvious, and like he should know it easily. Because it is, and he should.

He must take my look as a "yes" because he continues on with, "Well, uh, you know how you're an Animagus? And you turn into a cat?"

"No. No, I don't. I fear you're wrong, and you should probably leave me alone." Watch him believe me. I wouldn't be surprised.

"Oh yes, let's scare the boy with sarcasm. He and you have both lived through a war, but sarcasm will really be the one thing that gets him," I'm surprised by his response, considering that it's not completely dumbfounded, and when I look over at him, he seems to be surprised as well. But it looks more, for him, like he's surprised he let it out, rather than that he mustered such a response in the first place. I'm intrigued, and start to wonder if maybe there's more to Potter than I previously assumed. After one final furrow of his eyebrows, Potter continues. "Okay. Anyways. I've always had trouble with cats, because they'll never let me pet them. It's really frustrating. They looks so soft, and fluffy- until they're trying to bite or scratch away my existence, that is, at which point they're noticeably less soft and fluffy. So I've always, always wondered what it would be like to pet a cat. And I was thinking, a couple of days ago, about how even for other people who pet cats, you can't always pet them like you want, because they might not want to do the same thing and are incapable of oral communication. So I got to thinking about how maybe… an Animagus could solve my problem, by letting me pet them."

I can, obviously, already tell where this is going, considering that he's not being at all subtle about it, and I don't like it. In fact, I'm very worried. He can't really be going to ask what I think he is. The fact that he's already technically asked the question, before he'd explained at all, does nothing to quell my disbelief. It's impossible, isn't it?

"So I thought about-"

"No." I say this just in case, because even in my state of disbelief, I have the sense to know that it is a bad idea to let him ask me that question.

He takes a breath, and then pauses. "What?"

"My answer is no."

"But you don't even kno-"

"Even so, my answer is no. It will be no whatever you ask, if I have any intelligence at all."

I walk away for a couple of paces before momentarily turning towards him again.

"Which I do."

I turn back around and continue all the way out of the hallway, trying not to let myself collapse in shock or something from the whole encounter, before he can say anything else.

* * *

I go back to my private room soon after the strange meeting. Like many eighth year rooms, my room was converted to a place for living in after the war. Also like many of the eighth year rooms, it's not the most luxurious, and especially not the biggest, but I know that it's all I'm going to get, and not too much less than other people are getting, so I deal with it. Also, I don't care about the quality of most of the students at Hogwarts' rooms, but if I had to choose between having a nice room for myself, or some first years having it instead, they would get it without a doubt.

I have to be in my room for at least two hours before I go to sleep, because I've developed a long bedtime routine. This might sound conceited, and I'm sure that would've been true some years ago, but that's no longer the case.

I start with taking the glamour off of my Mark. I hide it every day more for me than for anyone else because, despite what some may think, I didn't want to get it when I got it, and I especially don't want it now. Hopefully I'll get to some semblance of acceptance at some point, but that day is still far off in the future.

Next, I check myself for physical wounds. These are relatively plentifully given throughout the day, although I manage to heal a good amount of them during lunch (which I no longer go to because that really wouldn't be smart for me- I get targeted enough when I'm trying to stay out of everyone's way), but they're easy enough to heal that even with the number of injuries I get in a day, they aren't much of a problem. They just add some time to my process.

The magical wounds are harder to fix. There are less of them, most definitely, but there are some people at Hogwarts who are simultaneously extremely mean and also rather good with offensive magic. The ones that I get take up most of my allotted two hours, because of the energy and time that they take to heal, but I also manage to heal those almost all of the time, and when I don't, I find out a way to get them healed outside of my own healing capabilities.

The psychological attacks on me are the real problem. Except I can't heal those, so I don't. They just sit in my head, every hour of every day, and weigh me down just a little bit more each day. Over time, that little bit starts to matter.

I fall asleep with that funny thought in my mind. Bitter, but funny nonetheless.

It kind of sucks for me that the one problem that matters, the one I need to heal, is the only one I can do nothing about.

* * *

Granger approaches me about a week after Potter did- corners me while I'm studying. I try to ignore her, but it doesn't exactly work.

"Draco," she starts. I bristle at her unwarranted use of my first name, but she plows through my reaction, "I know that you don't want to do this, but Harry really wants to pet a cat. Besides that, it would probably be good to show inter house unity. You know, prove that things that happened in the war, as far as students are concerned, were not under their control."

I'm turning into some kind of group project, and I really don't like it. It's so much attention!

...Which, okay, is the best part, because I kind of love attention. I can hear Pansy say, _Kind of?_ in my head. She's right, too.

But still, I'm turning into some kind of group project and I overall really don't like it, whatever redeeming qualities it may possess.

"You think that I care about any of that?" I start, because Granger's comment and what she assumed about me did make me genuinely angry. "I've lost all respect towards me from other people, as well as all of my inheritance, and I'm only here for eighth year because I need the qualifications to get a job at all, much less one I can live on. Now, I have to work to get a job! Sure, it was spoiled, but I didn't grow up expecting to have to do that! And I have to work harder than anyone else too, because now I'm the 'dirty Death Eater' who will ruin anything I come into contact with apparently! So yeah, I really care!" I'm breathing heavily by the end of my painfully truthful rant, and I realize that I just shared my innermost fears with someone who I hate, and who will most likely proceed to spread them across the school.

"But…" she seems surprised and kind of scared, but I can tell that she still doesn't plan to back down under any circumstances, "Harry _really, really_ wants to pet a cat. It's kind of a thing. Could you please do just this one good thing for him, after every other bad thing you've done to him?"

How has Granger gone from something so serious on my part to something so benign on her part, but with such a serious tone? I am deeply confused by the apparent amount of significance being placed on Potter petting a cat by everyone I've talked to. Why does it even matter? I don't even know where to start with that, so I just say screw it and ask her.

"Why is it so important that Potter pets a cat?" I feel ridiculous just saying it out loud. "It can't be that important, can it? Plus," I realize that this is even more stupid, but considering the context, it can't really be any worse than what those around me are suggesting, "why doesn't he just pet- oh McGonagall or something? At least they're on speaking terms with each other, and their occasional speaking doesn't almost always inevitably lead to a fight! Why does it have to be me? I'm sure that somewhere in Potter's marginal fanbase, there's another Animagus cat somewhere, who would be more than willing- practically begging- for him to pet them!"

Granger is taken aback, it seems. I can't exactly tell why.

"You're suggesting that Harry feel up some _stranger_? Doesn't that sound, oh, a tad like it's a stupid idea, and maybe a _little_ bit more than a tad creepy to you?"

"Of course it does! But I'd much prefer that than him feeling _me_ up!"

At this point, we've gotten so loud that Madam Pince not-so-kindly tells us to leave, with no small amount of fist-shaking. We happily oblige, due to the terror she inspires in us. Truly inspiring.

I try to get out of continuing our conversation (because do we really need to keep on discussing this ridiculous topic?) and bid Granger farewell.

"Goodbye. I hope you never speak to me again, and at least let it be about Arithmancy or Potions or something if you really can't stay away."

She looks at me like I'm crazy, which I'm used to at this point, but doesn't do anything when I turn around and walk away. Then, when I'm so close to being free that I can smell freedom, I hear a "Wait!" which I do not heed in any way. Instead, I take off in a sprint towards the glorious-smelling freedom, and speed up as I hear Granger catching up to me from behind. I've never been the fastest runner, because I'm far to noble and delicate to ever go all out, but who knew Granger could run this fast, really?

Then I remember that one time when she slapped me in the face, and cease being surprised.

"No!" I call back to her, while still running as fast as my pride will allow me. The sweat, oh the sweat! But I have to keep going- "You won't take me alive, you speedy monster!"

"Draco, quit being ridiculous!" I can hear how fast she's running in her voice. It scares me. Also, she sounds like Pansy. Doubly scary.

"Granger, please, call me Malfoy! And also, no, I refuse to cease my ridiculousness!"

"Draco, I swear- Accio Draco!"

What. She shouldn't be able to do that.

As I speed towards her and her eyes follow me, she says in wonder to herself, "Wow. It really worked. Damn, I am good." I can't help but agree. When I've been put firmly on the floor in front of her, standing up, she continues. "Okay, Draco," I frown instinctively, "first, please never do that again. I'm tired."

"So there is a weakness!"

"Shut up. Second, I just wanted to tell you to at least think about it. This really matters a lot to Harry."

I scoff.

Sure it does.


	2. They Just Keep Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of a plot for this fic recently (finally), so get ready for some (hopefully) great plot!

Weasley is the next to approach me.

Weasley.

_Ronald. Weasley._

This is a person who has almost certainly hated me ever since he first heard my name as a child. This is a person who ruined my childish fantasies of being best friends with the amazing person named Harry Potter, although in retrospect, that was probably the best thing that he's done for me in all of our shared time on earth. But at the time it was extremely low, mean, and broke my heart, which I'm sure brought him great joy. The only slightly good thing I can say about him is that he has yet to physically hurt me this year, which I blame on his affiliation to Potter. I figure they think themselves both too akin to saints to harm anyone else.

And now he's asking me to let his best mate pet me.

What has my life come to?

He approaches me outside a couple of days after Potter had, near the lake where I lie every now and then.

Today, my arms are behind my head, and I'm using a jacket I brought with me as I pillow as I stare blankly at the sky. I alternate between identifying shapes in the sparse clouds and following my thoughts as they wander aimlessly. I'm wearing the shortest shorts I own, and a light tank top. The temperature is just warm enough that I'm not uncomfortably hot, but I've been lulled by the cozy atmosphere into feeling pleasantly sluggish and like I might fall asleep any moment now. That was my original plan anyways.

All of this stops being true when I hear someone approaching my spot. I sit up quickly, immediately alert, and turn to face a gangly, red-haired person that I very much don't want to see at this moment. I had a suspicion it would happen, based on Potter and then Granger pestering me, but it ruins my good mood nonetheless.

The corners of his mouth are visibly tense and his eyes are looking all around, strictly avoiding mine. I'm glad I'm not the only one who's uncomfortable in this situation. I still have self respect, even if no one _else_ respects me anymore, so I stand up, subtly set my shoulders back, look him directly in the eyes, and steal the first word from him.

"Weasley. I see you've eagerly jumped onto the harass-the-Death-Eater wagon."

His face pales even more than normal as soon as I say it, and he looks distinctly nauseous, but my words also bring a tense resolve to his face.

"No, Malfoy. That's not what this is. You're not the only one who lost things in the war by _far,_ and you were actively on the side that caused the war, so maybe you should just put aside your pride and do something for someone else for once."

"Oh come on, I didn't want to do _any_ of that! You would've done the same thing in my place for your family, alright?"

"Yes, I know- but after doing what you did, I would've tried to make it up to people I had hurt, especially if they asked me to. So why can't you do this?"

"This isn't 'making it up to people'! This is stupid- this is Potter and all of his subservient friends indulging his whims!"

"It's not though. Hermione has almost certainly told you various reasons-"

"None that were convincing, no."

He continues as if I hadn't spoken. "But even if there weren't any reasons, Harry clearly doesn't have any alternative motive-"

"Debatable. It all seems awfully suspicious."

"He does _not._ Don't kid yourself. So if this is all innocent, which it is, you should try to do it, because for now it's all you can do in apology, and it's not that bad!"

"Weasley."

He meets my eyes with suspicion in his.

"What?" he asks.

I let a dramatic pause hang in the air.

"It's that bad."

He sneers at me with enough power that I small, evil part of me is impressed.

"Of course you would say that- of _course_ you would."

"It is. You're asking me to let my former sworn enemy _pet_ me! Imagine if all of my friends started chasing you around saying that you had to pet _me!_ It would be 'that bad'."

He grimaces at the thought, but ignores it nonetheless, and continues talking.

"Well I'm done trying to convince you, because you clearly don't feel the moral obligation that you should to help people. But just know that doing this would be a way to make it up, whatever you think. Even going along with Harry's whims, at this point, is much more than you've been doing."

As he tries to walk away without storming, evident is his carefully measure yet stilted strides, I sit back down and sigh deeply. Am I going to retain my sanity through all of this hassling? This is too much stress for me to handle in such a short time, and I still can't understand why everyone cares so much. Why they can't just leave me alone. Why this is so _important_.

* * *

As it turns out, it really is _all_ of Potter's subservient friends, because the onslaught of people trying to convince me to let Potter pet me doesn't let up for days. They start to visit me more frequently, too.

First up, Saturday morning, less than an hour after I've exited my bedroom, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas approach me together. I feel less distaste for them than I do for Weasley, but I fear that my distaste can only grow in this meeting.

"Malfoy," Thomas starts.

"Is this about Potter? Could it please not be? I'm tired."

"Yes- sorry- it is." He smiles at me and I'm almost tempted to appreciate the gesture, until I look behind him. Standing there, badly holding laughter in, slightly hunched over and turned away from me as further cover, is Finnegan.

Thomas follows my gaze, turning to look at the shaking figure behind him.

My almost-appreciation freezes in its tracks and decides it would be wise for it to stop existing. Similarly, I make up my mind to not exist _here_ anymore, or, in simpler words, leave.

"Well that's nice and all," at my words Thomas turns back to me, "but I'm afraid that I'll have to decline the invitation of this chat. I've had it before and my position will not change. Goodbye."

I turn and, as has happened far too many times at this point, am interrupted in my exit.

"Wait!" Finnegan calls, the remnants of laughter still evident in his voice. "I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. I was just laughing at this whole situation. I mean, you're being chased around by Harry's friends, who're trying to get you to let him _pet_ you- it's just too much!" And he breaks into a fresh bout of laughter. My face further sets itself in ice.

"I'm… sorry about him," Thomas says, frowning apologetically. "He's a little bit much sometimes," and while it might seem counterintuitive, his face shows that he finds this endearing, a small smile gracing his lips.

"That's fine, I was already leaving."

"Wait, no- I mean, leave if you want, I don't want to be pushy- but also please stay?"

I squint my eyes at him.

"An admirable attempt at communication, but I'm afraid it failed. Good bye."

"Oh, okay… Goodbye," he sounds disappointed.

I chance one last look at Finnegan, clench my jaw at his never-ending laughter, and walk away.

* * *

Padma Patil and her sister approach me within five hours of my encounter with Thomas and Finnegan. I assume it must be the sister's idea, because Padma is a Ravenclaw, and I thought I could trust her.

The exchange is brief, and this time it's not because I get angry and leave.

First, Padma walks up, plants her feet, and stands there as her sister plants _her_ feet next to her, and speaks.

"I just want to say that you should really at least consider letting Harry pet you. I can't really think of any real reason not to, so why not? Anyways, don't try to argue, because I have other things to do and need to leave, but I hope you'll consider it. Bye!"

Padma is silently supportive during the short monologue, and I look at her with imitation betrayal in my eyes as her sister leaves- after all, it has done almost less than nothing to persuade me, and at least she was to-the-point. Padma shoots me back a look that says both _It's my sister, deal with it_ and _I'm sorry this is happening to you._

I stick my tongue out a minuscule amount in response, and she smiles at me.

If this is the new level of dedication that Potter's friends are trying to convince me with, I think I'll make it after all.

* * *

Lovegood has a different approach. She walks straight up to me during lunch, a day or so after everyone else got there short bit in. Normally, at lunch, no one will approach me so I sit on the end of a table alone. As I'm sitting there, she says "Why won't you let Harry pet you?" without any reserve or hesitance at all.

I don't answer immediately because I'm not sure how to. I don't have to make an answer up either, because Lovegood doesn't taunt. Instead, I take my time. After a long enough pause I start to fidget- although Lovegood remains serenely still- in which I still can't think of an answer, I counter with an avoidance and a question of my own.

"It doesn't sound particularly pleasant. Plus, is there any legitimate reason that I should?"

" _I_ think so, yes, although you mightn't agree."

"What's the reason?" It better not be the crap everyone else has been spouting.

"Because Harry asked you nicely, and he's lonely, and it doesn't hurt you to help him."

I laugh at her apparent naivete.

"It most certainly does, actually."

She tilts her head at me quizzically, and pauses for a moment, thinking.

"How so?"

"Well, I don't want to do it."

Her eyes crinkle happily as she says, "And why is that?"

Then she starts to walk away.

"Wait," I say at her back. I'm not sure why. "Why are you leaving?"

"We've come full circle, so unless you want to change one of your answers, it would be a waste of both of our time to continue."

"Oh. I guess I- no- I'll see you arou-" at the last second I cut myself off, because I was nearing friendly territory, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Draco."

I don't like how sound her argument was, comparatively. It makes me uncomfortable. If I really think about it, which I've been trying to avoid at all costs until now, it wouldn't be the worst thing to let Potter pet me once, and I am, loath as I am to admit it even to myself, relatively indebted to him. Which means the only thing stopping me now is my pride.

I kind of like my pride.

As I'm chewing on my lip, staring contemplatively at my food, I hear someone sit down next to me. Today is a day of surprises, I guess.

Except for not, because it turns out to be Lovegood again.

"Hello, Draco. I have decided that I like talking to you, and I would like it if we could continue talking about things other than Harry petting you."

"O...kay?"

Her kindness makes me decide, finally.

I try her name out. "Luna… Before we stop talking about Potter petting me, I have to-should- do it, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah." She lets me process what has been said. "So what do you think about Quidditch? Personally, I think it's kind of stupid. Seeing all the fit people is nice, but I still find it dreadfully boring."

"Yeah," I say, still incredulous of the whole situation, "me too."


	3. Lovegood's Love

Despite my worries, none of Potter's groupies approach me during the next week or so. While I'm sure it should soothe my frayed nerves, it only puts me on edge. The apprehension slowly builds up until I'm constantly tense and suspicious, and every time one of Potter's friends passes me in the hallways, I find myself speeding up. I walk more quickly to avoid _them_ than I do to avoid people that have a history of hexing me. With that and all of my hiding, whether it be in hallways or doorways, it doesn't take long for me to realize that the situation is getting out of hand.

The next few times that Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley, or Neville Longbottom walk past me, I hold myself up with dignity and walk stoically past them. I maintain that this _is_ what actually happens, even if it might seem like I cower to wall opposite them and take halted steps to safety.

Then, on Friday in the Great Hall at supper, Lovegood approaches me.

I hear a shouted, "Luna, where are you going?" from the Gryffindor table as she walks over to mine.

"I'm going to sit with Draco today, Ginny," she yells back without looking away from my table, and even her raised voice seems calm and knowing.

"Oh, alright. Have fun!"

I have to notice that Lovegood smiles more brightly than I ever have in response to the girl Weasley's shouted goodbye.

In an attempt to distract her from talking to me about Potter when she gets to my table, I ask Lovegood a question as she sits down.

"So, that's Ginny Weasley, right?"

"Yep," her smile brightens at the name.

"Is she a close friend of yours? You seem to like her a lot."

"I wouldn't say she's especially close, but I do like her a lot," and for the first time in my memory, I see Lovegood blush, just a little bit. It compels me to dig deeper.

"Oh?" I'm aware that I am on the verge of teasing her, which may be pushing the limits of what I'm comfortable with, not yet being friends and all, but I need to distract her. "Anything deeper than friendship?"

"Well, yes, of course. Was that not evident? I've come to believe that I have an undeniable crush on her," at this she smiles almost proudly, "but I know she likes men, because she's talked to me about how she felt about Harry," my face twitches at the name, hoping she won't mention him further. "It seemed very real to me. I guess she could like girls as well, but even then, there are many people she could date that aren't me. Needless to say, I've become content to be her friend and daydream about her. It's not unusual for me to daydream in general," Lovegood smiles softly, "so no one's ever suspicious."

For some reason, she seems melancholy about that, and I want to comfort her with words I don't have. Instead, I try to bring back her brilliant smiles by asking her more about the girl Weasley.

Except I can't exactly call her "the girl Weasley", can I? It'll have to be her first name, I guess. I don't exactly _want_ to let go of the distance I've upheld by never calling Gryffindors by their first names, but I don't want to offend Lovegood (girl Weasley tends to get that reaction, which has been part of the attraction in the past) and I can't use her surname (Weasley by itself makes me think of a different ginger that I have even more bad memories of now), so first name it is.

"Why do you like," my face twitches again (maybe it's progress?), "Ginny," the name comes out stilted and confused, "so much?" I decide to attempt teasing Lovegood further. "Is it her hair? I've never been particularly fond of the color, but I'll admit that she wears it better than the rest of her family."

"No!" I'm not expecting Lovegood's intense response, and I flinch. "It's not just that!" she continues, voice filled with an unexpected vehemence. "She very beautiful, more than you're letting yourself admit, but she's also passionate and kind and protective and so much more! Everyone always used to bully me- not like they bully you now, not with violence," I let myself briefly wonder why Lovegood is so accurate about this. I thought I had hidden my problem well enough, but I guess I wasn't as successful as I'd hoped. "Instead, they would talk behind my back, call me 'Loony', and it _hurt,_ no matter how little I'd like to admit that and how little I might've shown it. I wouldn't be surprised if Ginny did that too when she didn't know me, and that idea hurts me more than the actual name calling did, but most people called me that. You surely did, too, but I like you plenty. What it really was- and is- with her, is that when she got to _know_ me, she started to tell people off for insulting me, which meant a lot. Before that, I had made friends with Neville, but he's not the most confrontational person, which I like about him. With Ginny, though, it was different, which was still an admirable quality in her. She was protective and she was soft and kind when we weren't in situations when she needed to be protective. Even when she was soft, she was still so passionate, and she was always headstrong and tried to make me laugh. She was _good._ "

For a moment I'm amazed at the sheer amount that Lovegood has to say about the girl Weasley. It doesn't seem like a silly crush to me anymore.

But then, that's also just how Lovegood is. She might love Ginny, she at least likes her a lot, but she notices things about _everyone_ , and while she considers the bad things, she really takes joy in the good things. She isn't afraid to express it either. I wonder what Lovegood might have to say about me.

It's strange how many positive things about me that I can imagine Lovegood saying, yet when I try to think about positive aspects about myself from _my_ point of view all I can think of is "Death Eater". Why do I have to think of good things from her perspective to think of them at all? It's a bit messed up, really.

I've been so depressed since the War ended, hating myself for what I've done, rightfully so, but it's been time for me to start recovering since I got hurt. How much good could I do internally if I tried to remember all the good things that Lovegood might say about me?

I add it to the list that is my night-time routine.

To think that someone kept captive in my family's cellar thinks better of me than I think of myself- it makes sense in context, sure, but I'm supposed to be a cocky git! Even my best of friends used to call me that- even _I_ , myself, used to call me that.

What happened?

Well, a lot of things happened. But those things were impossible to control, they were everywhere in my life and in my family, and I couldn't stop them, and that's exactly it. I couldn't control almost any of it. _I couldn't._

I'm beginning to think I should spend more time with Lovegood.

She interrupts my inner monologue with a soft, "Anyways, it's hopeless. We're friends, and I love her, and that's how it'll stay." Her smile is bitter-sweet. "And I'm happy with that."

What can I do for her, after all she's done for me without even knowing it in this one moment?

"Hey, Lovegood?"

"Oh, don't call me that. It makes me feel distant. Call me Luna."

It seems almost right, so I go along with it.

"Luna, then?"

"Hm?"

"Do you want-" I stop myself and pause. Part of me wants to explore the idea of us being friends, while another wants to let her get some of her feelings out and talk about her crush. Friendship more directly applies to me, but I think it would make her happy to talk about the girl Weasley and I want to start our blossoming friendship on a good note.

Of course, I can pass it off as morbid curiosity rather than genuine care if she mentions it, and while Luna may very well see through it easily, it's still an option to hide behind.

"Tell me more about you and Ginny."

Just as I had hoped, Luna smiles easily and starts talking away, bubbling with laughter and love. She talks for a long time with almost no input from me, but not in a bad way at all. I watch her face brighten and brighten and even when it surely can't get any brighter, it does, until she seems like she should be physically glowing with pride and happiness. Loathe as I am to admit it, she drags me along, until I'm smiling with her and I feel almost like I did before the War.

Except I feel better. Before the War, among many terrible things, there was always the little voice in the back of my head that muttered "Death Eater, Death Eater" about those I loved dearly, about myself. I didn't want to resent Pansy and Blaise for their families mistakes, I didn't want to resent myself for it, yet I somehow ended up resenting everything.

When Luna's done talking, she tilts her head and asks me a question.

"Do you have a crush, Draco?"

I almost laugh at the idea, and start to firmly deny it, before a thought occurs to me. I'm sure I don't, but I'm also sure that I never have. Most people would've had one in the past, and most people would have one now, but I guess neither apply to me. It seems impossible that I'd have a crush without my knowing, but I feel like that would be just my luck.

"Not that I know of," I finally reply, less confidently that I would've liked.

"Oh, but people are so great! Even if you don't know them, you must find someone attractive. Think about it, anyways," she suggests, looking oddly serious for the topic.

"Sure, I guess." I smile uncertainly

"Oh, I just remembered!" Luna exclaims after a moment of confused silence on my part. "There's a inter-House party going on next week and I was wondering if you'd like to come with me. It could be good for you to join the group. What do you think?"

I'm aware that I'm gaping at Luna as I try to come up with a response.

"It'll be fun, really," she insists, "They all have been."

All? How many have there been? I guess it's not all that surprising that I wasn't invited, really.

"Do you think you'll go?"

"I don't really know, I mean… me? At an inter-House party? But I-" I feel like I'm letting her too far in on my inner monologue and it makes my uncomfortable, so I shut up.

"Why not?" she answers, unconcerned, "I've invited the rest of my friends, and I think you would enjoy it."

I unwittingly focus in on the word "friends." I'm one of her friends, now. It makes me a bit happy, although I'd never admit it to anyone but myself, and even then it's reluctantly.

"Plus, It would certainly be good for everyone our age to see that that you're not terrible anymore, and the little Slytherins need to see that they don't have to be isolated."

And that's what convinces me. I remember watching first years at the Sorting turn an almost funny green when the hat called out a regretful "Slytherin." I like to think that the hat was mourning the estrangement of Slytherins rather than their existence, but it's impossible to know. Either way, the distaste and bitterness towards the Slytherin House has been and is obvious. I want to show the few returning or new Slytherins that they can and have reason to be proud.

"Well?" Luna prompts me.

"Er… Okay. Sure?" I respond, my mind still spinning at the invitation.

"That's great! I'm so excited!"

"When and what exactly is it, anyways?" I ask, some of Luna's enthusiasm rubbing off on me.

"It's planned to start at 8 in the Room of Requirement, and we always have games, dancing, and refreshments. People generally leave whenever they want to."

That sounds almost… fun. Or at least like it doesn't have to be terrible.

"Alright… Thanks, Luna."

"Thank _you_! I'm so glad you're coming, really. Do you think you'd be interested in coming over to my room an hour before so we could get ready? You'd have time to mentally prepare yourself and it might be fun, and then we could go to the Room together."

"Yeah, sure."

"Alright, bye then. I'm going to go tell Hermione. She plans them, so I bet she'll be happy to hear the the parties are gaining popularity."

"Uhuh," because of course the news is being delivered to Granger first. But I bite down my protests and remind myself of the fact that I _want_ to be friends with Luna. "Bye."

For all of the benefits of hanging out with Luna, she sure seems to be taking me on an emotional roller coaster.


End file.
